6 days in Pokhara, one night in broken and desperate Katmandu, one day in the airport, 3 planes and more than 24hours travelling later, I’m back in France. Wow, so weird all those native French speaking people around me!

So weird to travel around the city without wondering about the way because I know it by heart.

So weird and yet so good to see all those people I know well, all those people I love…

So weird to have keys again and to look for a nice dress for a wedding.

So weird to have so many belongings when all my life was setting in one backpack.

So weird to tell and re-tell and re-re-tell my stories to my friends and friends of friends and relatives. A story told so many times that more than one month later I feel like a record : “ so which countries? » « Oh well, USA-NZ-Aussie-Singapore-Bangkok-Laos-Cambodia-Nepal”

So weird to come back to my old life full of so many new experiences, new friends, new feelings.

So weird that I feel like I’m allergic to Paris.

So weird to jump each time a building shakes… But it’s just a bus or a métro…

Being torn between going straight back to a new travel and staying here enjoy new beautiful moments with people I love…

So weird that I don’t know yet if I will keep on doing this blog or if I will stop and go back to my old life…